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Topic: 08.30.2132 - The Return Home (Read 6649 times)

There was no telling if separate footprints were made by the person, thing, or Kahr’Thul (hehe) that may have laid that blanket on you. This was because you had spent a good deal of time making a fire in the common area fireplace prior to falling asleep and a new set made wasn’t traceable.

Prior to that fire-making, you did note that the floors were all very dusty. But you don’t recall seeing any footprints anywhere in the dust throughout the rooms as you initially searched.

Do you have a form of tracking, nature, or survival (in 3.5 edition) that will allow you to discover prints in rough terrain (woods nearby)? Otherwise, there is nothing in the immediate area in front of the cabin. And negative, you do not recognize the name.

After further review, I have changed my mind and want to revise all my answers about prints as follows. I apologize for the late revision:

Inside the house: On his initial search through the house, Temmit did see that there were footprints that went from the front entrance directly to his parents bedroom and to the trapdoor in the floor (and then back to the entrance). Whoever it was, they knew exactly what they wanted and exactly where it was. The footprints looked to be the size of a man's boot.

*Front entrance: After discovering the blanket on himself, Temmit noted a separate set of prints, not his own, that lead from the road to the threshold and then to spot he slept. The prints then returned to the road. The footprints looked to the smaller and perhaps a woman's boot.

*Woods surrounding house: Although there is no sign that the house has been approached or vandalized during its entire life without a family, you did find a path about 50 behind the cabin. This path appears to be a deer path, but you did find a man's bootprint in a patch of dried mud. The boot was pointed in the direction of the path.[/list][/color]

Sorry, I thought I answered you but it could have been lost in formatting. “No” you do not know of Rob Peters.

The door opened and a man with long gray hair and a bushy mustache poked his head in. He gave a smile, and then looked down on the ground while nodding and smiling to himself.

Temmit easily ascertained that this man was amused. He seemed pleased to find exactly what had been expected; a frightened teenage boy holding a sword in the middle of his parent’s old cabin.

“Good evening,” he said as he took two steps in while taking off his wide-brimmed ten-gallon hat. Hair spilled everywhere about his shoulders. “Again, the name is Peters, and you must be Temmit,” he offered. Temmit noted that his eyes didn’t look at Temmit’s sword, nor did the man in any way look anxious. Peters was as relaxed as a cucumber, and more importantly, didn’t looked armed.

Peters chuckled a bit and raised a staying hand at the boy. “You’re in the right not trust’in me boy, priest law is only an idear out here near the border.”

Temmit didn’t reply, but simply held his sword.

“Right,” Peters said and reached his hand slowly into a pocket of his brown leather vest. He pulled out a piece of folded parchment and began to unfold it slowly. Temmit spied the POOSH stamp (Post Office Of Safe Haven) on one of the sides as it unfolded. Peters looked at whatever was written on it, then looked up at Temmit, then back at to the piece of paper. He had a curious look of awe on his face.

“Damn boy that’s just nuts,” he said to the parchment.

Without much ceremony, he flipped the parchment over and offered it to Temmit.Temmit accepted the parchment cautiously, stepping forward only for a brief moment to take it. He didn’t drop his weapon for a moment.

When Temmit looked down upon the paper he was looking at the backside, he noted that it was much worn, as if the folded paper had been in the man’s pocket for a long time. It was also letter sized and the same type of paper his father had used for his drawings. The POOSH stamp was dated SummerFirst-Endday-2120 (07.20.2120), over twelve years ago.

He flipped it over to see what Peters had been looking at…and there, centered in the paper, sketched by his father’s distinctive hand, was a drawing of Temmit’s face…at age 15.

It was addressed to Rob Peters. Return addresses are used without question, POOSH won’t deliver without one. The return address is on the paper, it is:

Henry Fellow, Retired Boatmaker, Age 6217 Chapel RoadLakeshore

…and no, in all of your travels, nor in ANY point yet in time (remember this thread takes place a year ago), do you recognize this name.

For future reference, Lakeshore (you may remember) is the beach-front town on the lake just northwest of Our-Commons.

In regards to “priest law”, that is just slang for “the unjust religious law of the land”. This tenant is felt more profoundly the farther away one gets from Our-Commons (which you may remember is at the heart of the kingdom of SafeHaven). Out here, about 40% of the population is disgruntled with Fresenius and his government. With that disenfranchised attitude, strangers are initially mistrusted until what side they’re on can be determined.

The man had a kind and patient face, it cracked a smile under the thick mustache. “Name’z still Peters,” he replied without malice and in the same slow draw.

“That draw’n of you came tah’me from the Post just ‘bout ten years ago,” he continued while picking the drawing up off the floor. “Judgin by your age now, I reckin your ‘bout fifteen. So ya’d mind tellin me how that’s possible? How someone ten years ago knew exactly how a small boy would look as a young man in his future?”

Temmit shook his head emphatically...perhaps a bit jittery. "It's not possible." He stated, remaining on his guard.

"It's also not reasonable that you should know that I'm here; why did you follow me from Save Haven?" He asked.

The man's genial nature was doing nothing to ease Temmit's mistrust; there was too much going on. Only a few people knew that Temmit was out here alone: Renee, Leslie, and his "superiors" in the school (those who Temmit was forced to tell).

This Peters fellow must obviously be a spy, therefore. Or a vagabond, or highwayman...what did he want from this place? Was this the fellow who had stolen Temmit's father's things?

Temmit stole a quick glance out through the kitchen's window, lest "Peters" have any accomplices that might ambush the youth from behind. Satisfied that no one was there, Temmit then reached out with his most gentle thoughts to read Peters' emotions...